


That's Showbiz

by LaurenE16



Series: Ellie Lives With A Serial Killer [3]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Amputation, Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gore, No Beta, Physical Abuse, She calls him Daddy but it's not kinky, Snuff Films, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, face smashing, improper removal of piercings, sex on a corpse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurenE16/pseuds/LaurenE16
Summary: Ellie is brought back into the basement. This time there's a guest, a camera, and money to be made.It's time for some bonding.This is nasty. God, I really don't know what I've done with this one. I'm so sorry, I just really want Ellie to suffer, for some reason.
Relationships: Protagonist/Strade (Boyfriend to Death), Strade (BTD/TNR)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Ellie Lives With A Serial Killer [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683841
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	That's Showbiz

“Liebling, I'm home!” I heard his booming voice moments after a door opened. Shooting out of bed, I forced myself down the stairs as quickly as I could. My foot was healing nicely but I still flinched when I landed on the bottom step too hard, sharp pain shooting up my leg. Strade's usual grin met me when I realized he wasn’t at the front door and turned towards the garage door. It sent my heart into panic mode immediately as it did every day, but I put my hands in front of me, wringing my fingers nervously and forcing a smile to my lips.

Until I saw what he was dragging behind him.

Both times Strade had brought someone home since I’d been here, I’d stayed up in my bedroom or hung out with Ren. It was becoming a little easier to ignore the noises that came from the basement if I kept busy. I glanced to the top of stairs and saw Ren’s fluffy tail disappear down the hall. Apparently, he was smarter than me.

“Come with me,” He grunted, turning so he could grab both arms of the man who was unconscious behind him. Last time had been a guy, too, and he’d lasted almost three days. Ren told me most people didn’t it make past the second day. I’d asked him once how Strade got away with it, how people didn’t start to suspect anything. Serial killers weren’t exactly low profile. He told me that Strade disposed of the bodies really well, and most of the people either weren’t missed or were assumed to have run away. He knew what he was doing.

This guy… He was small, not much taller than Ren, and cute. Had he been at a bar alone, like me? I knew that’s how Strade found both me and Ren, but that couldn’t be his only method, right?

“Grab his legs, Haustier.” Strade ordered when he realized I was just standing there like an idiot, staring at the poor guy.

“I-I…”

Strade paused and looked at me, his amber eyes sharp and calculating. “Grab his legs.” He repeated calmly, firmly; not fucking around.

I snapped into action, jolting forward and grabbing the man’s ankles, lifting when he told me to. He’d taken so many people into the basement on his own before, so there was clearly a reason why he was telling me to help, not that I really wanted to know. He led the way down the stairs, the smell of copper assaulting my senses, the cold of the floor at the bottom bringing me right back to where I was not so long ago: bleeding and so, so cold on the floor, curled up in the corner waiting to die. I didn’t want to be down there ever again. When we reached the same pole I’d been tied to, Strade told me to put him down.

“Don’t move.” He pointed a finger at me, frowning, and waited until I nodded my understanding before he stomped to the other side of the basement. He was only gone a minute and when he came back into my view, he was carrying two large bags under his arms. “Go get the rope from the bottom shelf.”

He tilted his head towards his tool shelf and bent down to the larger of the two bags, unzipping it. I didn’t wait to see what he was doing. The bottom shelf held rope and the first aid kit he’d used to sew up my legs after I cut myself that first day…

 _It’s too much_. I couldn’t handle being down there much longer.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I held the rope tightly and watched as Strade removed a tripod, camera, laptop, and a bunch of cords from the bags. He set them up as if he’d done it a million times before, and then he logged into the laptop and took a few moments to pull up a site. It looked like some kind of chatroom. I knew Strade occasionally made movies; he’d made me watch a few of them, but all I remember thinking was how I was glad I wasn’t in one of them; though I wasn’t sure that would be true much longer. When he was seemingly finished, he turned to me and held his hand out for the rope, which I immediately handed over.

“You have a very important job today, Ellie.” He told me, his tone pleasant again, as he knelt behind the unconscious man and pulled his arms behind him. I looked at the camera and then back to Strade… I really hoped he didn’t want me to… “You’re going to be taught about the- _family business_ , of sorts. Can you guess what it is?”

 _Oh god, the videos are online._ I shivered, glancing at the laptop again. “M-Making movies?”

Strade finished tying the man and stepped back to me. He took hold of my arm and pulled me closer to the camera, making me face the computer. “That’s right. When this little _juwel_ wakes up, I’ll turn on the camera. You’re going to sit, right here.” He gestured to a stool he’d placed in beside the laptop. “And requests will come in on this website. If someone pays,” His finger pointed to a spot on the screen, and my stomach started rolling. “You’ll read me what they say. Got it?”

“Strade,” I said quietly, my breathing starting to get heavy. How could he think I could do this? “I, uh, I don’t- don’t know if I can-.”

Strade’s smile slipped slightly and my heart froze in my chest. Then his fingers were on my cheeks, squeezing my face, making my lips pucker and my teeth ache. I let out a whine, but he just kept squeezing. After a moment of just watching the discomfort on my face, he said, “You can, schatzi.” He insisted. “Because you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

I nodded fervently. _Yes, yes, god yes._ I had to be, I had to be a good girl, or he’d hurt me again, he’d hurt me so bad.

Strade leaned forward just enough to press a loud kiss on my puckered lips before his bright smile returned full force, and he let go of my face, stepping back with a laugh. “Of course, you are! You’re just nervous, right? Completely understandable! But don’t worry, you’re going to be perfect!”

 _I’ll be perfect_. I forced myself to nod again, a completely phoney smile lifting the corners of my mouth.

“Good.” Strade said happily. “I told you when you were down here that experiences like this – they bring people closer together. It’s a very personal thing, to see how someone reacts at their worst. You’ll learn that today, Ellie.”

He was watching me expectantly, and I realized he wanted me to respond to his _profound_ theory. “H-how does that work?”

“I am so glad you asked!” Strade boomed, delighted. “I learned so much about you during our time down here. You have a fire in you, but you know when to fight and when to do as you’re told. You’re smart, you knew I wasn’t going to just let you go, you’re resilient; I know you went into my fridge, and you make the most beautiful sounds when you’re in pain… What did you learn about me?”

 _Did he want a serious answer?_ I scrambled through my mind, trying to figure out how to answer as diplomatically as possible. I couldn’t exactly tell him that I learned he was insane… “You… You enjoy hurting people,” I started quietly. “You’re not afraid of a fight, you keep your promises… You-,” A sudden memory of him tending to my mangled foot when he brought me upstairs popped up. “You’re charming… You – you take care of us…”

“See?” He actually looked proud and I exhaled in relief. “You learn so much in a short amount of time. And you and I will grow closer by experiencing this together, too. So, don’t worry, schatzi, you’re safe today as long as you do your job.”

“I will,” I insisted, taking a seat on the stool. If it would keep me safe, I would do anything. It was just reading; I didn’t even have to watch… I could stare at the screen and pretend I was somewhere else.

Strade patted my cheek gently. “Now, rules. You will not say my name, or yours. If you need my attention – I think _daddy_ will do nicely.” Once again, I just nodded. It wasn’t the first time he’d made me say it, and it was easy enough. “Now, some people will try to low ball. Ignore those. It will start off with lower bids before we really get going but… You’re smart, I think you’ll figure out what to accept and what not to.”

He was putting the power in my hands. I felt sick; I would have to read the requests and then choose which ones would happen. I’d have to decide how much money was worth the torture of the request. This was cruel; I felt like he was punishing me for something. Strade puttered around the room for a few minutes, checking to make sure that he had everything he needed, and then a loud groan came from the dude on the floor. _Show time…_

“What the fuck?” The guy blinked and then looked up, catching my eyes first and then seeing the set up beside me. Then he saw Strade, who was smiling pleasantly at him. “Strade? The hell is going on?”

“Oh, I’m glad you’re awake, buddy… Do you remember what you told me at the bar?” Strade asked him, crouching on his haunches just out of reach of the guy’s legs. “About having nothing left to live for?”

My jaw dropped and my blood went cold. This was so wrong… Strade certainly wasn’t above using someone’s depression against them, but it was so, _so_ wrong.

“What?” The guy’s eyes went wide and his face flushed. He was understandably upset. “No, I- I was just talking, man… What are you doing?”

“We’re going to help you.” Strade said, and my chest felt heavy when he said ‘we’, as if I was complicit. But then I remembered, _you are complicit, because you’re being good. Because you want to get the fuck out of this basement._

“No!” The guy yelled, twisting violently in his binds, finding it about as effective as I did. “You son of a bitch! Get me out of here! You can’t do this shit!”

Strade laughed exaggeratedly, bending and putting his hands on his knees. “Oh, buddy. I think you’ll find that I can.”

Even though I was staying still and silent, trying not to draw attention to myself, the guy finally looked at me again. “Hey, come on… You- you look like a nice girl. I’m sure you don’t want this… Please-.”

I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut and bringing my shoulders up to my ears when Strade suddenly moved, his heavy boot coming up and then cracking down on the guy’s face. His head jerked back, and he cried out, blood gushing from his nose. It was definitely broken. “Peter,” Strade sounded serious when he leaned down closer to the man. “Listen to me carefully. You don’t talk to her. You talk to me, do you understand?”

The man, Peter, was dazed, groaning in pain, but his head went up, then down, just once, and he slouched further on the ground.

“Wonderful!” Strade stepped back again, turning towards the camera. From his back pocket, he pulled out a bandana and wrapped it around the lower half of his face. The wide grin of the skeletal pattern sent shivers down my spine, but I couldn’t stop from thinking: if I saw him with that mask on out in the streets, I would still know it was him from those eyes… As if he felt me staring, he looked at me and sent me a flirtatious wink. _Of course, he’d be feeling flirty._ Then he pressed a button on the camera and another on the laptop. He put his mouth right at my ear and said quietly, “Remember, haustier, if they pay, you read me what it says. And you will watch.” I answered with a small ‘ _okay’_ as my stomach turned to lead and turned my attention to the screen.

Strade stepped in front of the camera, his hands on his hips, not saying a word. I supposed the point was to remain relatively anonymous. Someone would be able to identify him from his voice, or his smile, or the scar on his chin. Strade was smart, though, and I could see from the chat block filling that he had quite a reputation on the website. It had just begun, and already the kinds of shit these people requested made me sick… _Maybe it wouldn’t be as easy to ignore as I thought_. I looked back at Strade and he was staring at me, eyebrow cocked mockingly. He wanted to get on with it. I gulped and turned back to the screen.

“Uhm…” I saw the first donation pop up, $100. “T-They want his clothes off…”

Strade put both his hands up, giving the camera two thumbs up and spinning back towards to Peter. I made myself watch as Peter squirmed and tried to act tough again, threatening to kill Strade if he touched him. He didn’t know yet that this was exactly what got Strade off. No amount of begging would work; he’d be better off taking it and hoping for a quick death. Because there was no way he was getting out with his life, not when Strade was filming it for profit. These sickos wanted to see him die, I just knew it. I’d already seen some comments asking for him to be strangled, to be shot, to be stabbed… Sick pieces of shit, but they didn’t pay, so I didn’t read it out loud.

Peter’s clothes came off quickly, leaving him in tight boxer briefs, the blood from his nose quickly falling down his exposed chest. There was a light ding from the chatroom, and I turned as Strade was cutting off the underwear, grimacing at the request and the attached $500. “St- Daddy, they said… Rip out his piercings.”

When I turned back, Peter was naked and cowering and I saw that he had several piercings; one on each nipple and one – _Oh no_ – prince albert on the underside of his penis. Strade stepped away for a moment, behind the camera, to go into his tool kit. Peter looked me, eyes wide, and said quietly but frantically, “Please, why are you helping him? He’s hurt you too - your legs… Please, help me…”

 _Stop talking to me_ , I wanted to respond, but Strade had returned, swinging his fist at poor Peter, knocking his head to the side. Then he knelt back down beside the man, brandishing a pair of pliers in his left hand. I leaned back, as if I could escape what I would have to watch next. Strade started at the right one, reaching across to grip the small ring. He waited a short moment, probably for dramatic effect, and then pulled back hard. Peter’s scream ripped through the room, sending shudders down my spine. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried not to close my eyes. Strade said to watch, if I didn’t, he’d be mad. He didn’t wait before moving to the other nipple, pulling back with a sharp grunt as Peter howled again in pain. The prince albert was next, and my hand came up to cover my mouth as Strade gripped the small ring. There was a ding from the chat, but I ignored it, unable to look away. Strade chuckled, and then flung his arm back, the piercing ripping brutally from Peter’s cock, the man’s scream catching in his throat as he convulsed on the floor, his head thrown back and legs kicking out. I retched, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment to hold it together. When I was able to open them again, Peter was wailing, and Strade was just watching him, the pliers still gripping the piercing that held little bits of flesh and blood.

_Ding, ding, ding, ding._

The requests were coming in more quickly and I used it as an excuse to look away. $500 to remove the whole thing, $750 to cut out his voice box. _These people…_ How was I supposed to choose what to say? … I didn’t want Peter to suffer, but I knew Strade would need to make money or he’d be pissed. My eyes watered as I went through the requests.

“Please…” Peter sobbed, choking on his words. “Please, stop…”

At his words, Strade turned to look at me again. I knew I must look green, the last request was $5000, but I cleared my throat and said queasily, “Untie him… C-Cut off his hands…”

He didn’t even hesitate, and I wondered if he even enjoyed doing it this way… I thought he liked just going with the flow… With me, he told me to cut myself, but when I couldn’t do it anymore, he just took over… Now that I’m upstairs, it’s like he watches for reactions before he decides what he wants to do. He’s calculated, if not easily excited, but having other people tell him what to do. I guess the money made it worth it. Strade untied Peter quickly, and then kicked him onto his back. He got into position, putting a boot on Peter’s forearm before unsheathing his favourite hunting knife from its holster. I hated that knife.

“Wait!” Peter yelled when he saw the knife. “Wait, please! Don’t-!”

His begging stopped and I slammed my hands over my ears when his screaming started again. I didn’t know how Strade could listen to so much screaming. The knife pressed into Peter’s wrist and then Strade started a sawing motion, the bladed smoothly parting the skin, blood spurting. I curled up as much as I could on the chair, knowing if I moved that I’d have to pay, but I couldn’t watch anymore. I turned away towards the screen again, eyes closed tight, my hands still on my ears, trying to ignore the sounds of Peter’s screaming and Strade’s heavy breathing as he cut through bone. _Why is he making me watch this?_

There was some shuffling behind me, and then the screaming abruptly stopped. I didn’t dare look yet, but the screen on the computer told me Strade had moved on to the second hand, but Peter wasn’t moving. Probably passed out, which was a fucking blessing for him. I wished I could pass out. I’d give anything to not have to experience what came next. I was so distracted trying to stay in my own mind that I didn’t know Strade had finished with the second hand until he was behind me and grabbed my hair tightly in his fist.

“I told you to watch, liebe.” He snarled quietly in my ear. Using my hair to control me, he made me turn back around to face the giant pool of blood in which Peter laid, indeed unconscious. “What’s next?”

I glanced at the screen, pointing a weak finger at the chat. $9000. “H-Hammer… F-Face…”

Strade huffed, clearly amused, and quickly went to his tool rack on the wall, grabbing the same hammer he’d threatened me with. I couldn’t help the scream that left my lips when he brought the hammer down swiftly, the first crack of Peter’s skull deafening. The second swing shattered the man’s jaw, then one of his eye sockets sunk in. I stopped paying attention, tears streaming down my face, as I let the whole scene blur in front of me. I was so glad to be alive. God, he could have done that to me. One misstep and I could be Peter, getting my face bashed in with a hammer. I wanted to beg on my knees and thank Strade for not subjecting me to that.

The hammer hitting the ground brought me back and I nearly threw up at the sight. What was laying on the ground was no longer human. There was no way. It was just… Meat. Junk a hunk of blood and raw meat piled on the floor. But… God, he was still breathing, somehow. How? How was he still alive? I could clearly see his chest struggling to move, up shallowly, and then down again.

 _Ding_.

I turned to the screen, and I froze. _Oh no_. I tried to scroll past it, to pretend that I didn’t see the next request. It was like the whole chat had frozen, like everyone concurred with the final request. _No, no, no_! I felt Strade come up behind me, could smell his sweat and the blood that clung to his skin and clothes. _Please don’t see it._

They wanted to see the person behind the camera. Wanted to see her get fucked in his blood. They pooled together another $8000 for it.

“Hmm,” Strade breathed a quiet laugh, grabbing both my arms and holding tight. His voice stayed quiet, but it sounded like he yelled in my ear. “Guess you get to be in the show, after all.”

“No,” I begged, turning my head to look in his eyes. “D-Daddy, please, no…”

His eyes crinkled and I knew he was smiling at me. A fresh wave of tears ran down my cheeks, my legs not fully cooperating as he made me stand up and move in front of the camera. I was still wearing my sleep clothes since I was in bed when Strade came home earlier, which meant one of Strade’s old t-shirts and a pair of plain grey panties. I tried to shy away from the camera, but Strade held me firm for a moment before he pulled the t-shirt over my head to bare me in front of the anonymous audience. I crossed my arms over my chest, which was stupid and pointless because he dropped my panties a second later and then ripped my arms down to my sides, showcasing me as I cried silently. I trembled when he pushed me towards Peter, my feet slipping in the pool of blood.

“Straddle him.” Strade ordered, still standing behind me. I didn’t want to, he was bleeding everywhere, I didn’t want his blood on me. My legs on either side of his hips, I stared down at his face, or what was left of his face. His chest was still rising shallowly, and I let out a pathetic sob. I felt so bad for him, I couldn’t make my knees bend to lower myself. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. “Liebe.”

His hands tightened on my shoulders and he pushed down. I let my knees crumble but tried to stay above him so I wasn’t touching him. I heard Strade’s belt jingle and then he got to his knees behind me. _You can do this, Ellie. Just close your eyes. Pretend it’s a normal day._ His chest pressed into my back for just a moment before he pushed me, and I fell forward with a yelp. I threw my hands out to stop myself from falling face first onto Peter, my hands landing on his bleeding chest. My palms slipped on his blood, fingers immediately stained red. Strade’s fingers prodded me and I closed my eyes, trying to pretend we were upstairs on a good day. He pressed into me, and my knees slipped further, dropping my hips flush against Peter’s groin. Strade just moaned happily, hands on my hips, thrusting hard over and over again, ignoring my quiet pleas for him to stop. I could feel Peter underneath me, my clit rubbing against his crotch, bringing unwanted pleasure and disgust with it. One of Strade’s hands moved around me, wrapping around my throat and squeezing gently.

“Open your eyes,” He moaned in my ear, snapping his hips harshly. I cried out, but managed to slide my eyes open, my entire view filled with red. I stared at him, repulsed, but following Strade’s orders. Peter was unrecognizable. The sunken hole of his eye had filled with blood, his shattered jaw that showcased bone and teeth, and the curl of his skin that was no longer attached to his skull... Once again, I was reminded that Strade hadn’t done this with me. He hadn’t destroyed me beyond repair. He’s kept me intact, and even though this was the nastiest thing he’d subjected me to, I was still safe. He wasn’t hurting me. In fact, despite the almost dead person underneath me, I could feel the build up within me, the fullness of Strade, the contact on my clit, I couldn’t fight it. I forgot about the camera, about the hundreds of murderers that had just watched this shit show, and I let my body go, hips jerking, moaning crudely. Strade laughed, thrust once, twice, and then shuddered as he finished within me.

Unfortunately, then reality hit again when the _ding, ding, ding_ from the computer was the loudest noise in the room. Strade stood up and tugged me back to my feet, and I just stood there. What the hell was wrong with me? My hands, my thighs, my feet, were covered in blood, and so was my neck and hips from Strade’s hands. _What have I done?_ I let myself be maneuvered towards the stairs on weak legs.

“Go,” Strade ordered, his voice quiet but _gleeful_. “Send Ren down. You’ll sleep with me tonight.”

 _Okay._ I climbed the stairs, pushing the heavy door open, glad the floors were wood and not carpet as I was surely leaving bloody footprints. Up another flight of stairs, I opened Ren’s door. He was still awake, laying in his nest and his eye bulged when he saw me, naked and blood soaked from head to toe. I looked at him, my whole body shaking now that the adrenaline was gone, and I whispered, “Daddy wants you…”

“Are you okay?” He asked, jumping up and taking a step towards me.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. Why? Why did he make me do that? I didn’t understand how that would bring us closer together. _Because he kills other people. But not you._ The shower was hot, almost too hot, but I viciously scrubbed the drying blood from my body, my knees giving out part way through. Kneeling on the ground, I cried again as I tried to get clean. Not even after spending three days in Strade’s basement had I felt this dirty, this filthy before. I hoped the $25 grand he, _we_ , made was worth it. _I hope wasn’t disappointed in me._

Afterwards, curled up in Strade’s bed, I waited, staring at the wall in the dark. It was a long time before he came upstairs and showered. I felt the bed tip behind me and Strade’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back into him. I felt his lips on my shoulder and then he whispered, “You were perfect.”

I smiled.

_I was perfect._


End file.
